


Kandy's Strip Club

by TarantulinaJoLee



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Amy Strips, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Jealous, Peraltiago, Protective Jake, Stripper, Undercover, Undercover Mission, strip club
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2019-10-08 08:28:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17383157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TarantulinaJoLee/pseuds/TarantulinaJoLee
Summary: Amy Santiago loves her job. She loves the stakeouts, the interrogations, the chase-downs, the solves, and the paperwork (oh, how she loves the paperwork). The only think she can't stand about her job? Her annoying, childish, immature partner: Peralta. But when the two get assigned as partners on an undercover mission at a Strip Club, will her opinion of him change?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, this is my first work, so please be kind! I appreciate any comments and advice.

As Amy flopped down tiredly in her worn chair, she frowned at the disarray that was her desk. Muttering something about “absolute chaos” under her breath, she placed the single askew pen back in its proper place: the aging NYPD mug her mother had gotten her upon her graduation from the academy. Noticing the ancient crumbs that were migrating onto her files from the desk adjacent, Amy rolled her eyes and deepened her scowl. Angerly brushing the crumbs from the files into the trash can, she let out an exasperated sigh. Amy’s stack of closed case files was becoming embarrassingly small compared to the ever-increasing stack of open case files. Letting her head fall into hands, Amy let out a frustrated groan. It had been a rough few weeks for Amy at the 99th precinct. 

It wasn’t a slump, she told herself. Amy Santiago didn’t do slumps. In fact, Amy Santiago didn’t “do” anything except solve cases and perfectly file her paperwork in a proper, timely fashion. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself. But the events of the last few weeks painted a different picture of Amy Santiago. This picture, was of a fumbling detective, unable to solve a case to save her life. Case after case, she came up empty-handed and frustrated. To make matters worse, her exceedingly obnoxious, immature, infuriating co-worker/desk-mate was on a hot streak of solves. Her nostrils flared as she thought of the last arrest Peralta had made: a big-time Heroin dealer that had been eluding the NYPD for months now. Amy was certain she had even seen a ghost of a smile on Holt’s face when Peralta brought his criminal into the precinct. Amy knew that Peralta had earned the slight hint of praise from their superior, but she couldn’t help her jealousy roaring to life at the thought of their captain, HER mentor, HER Rabi, praising Peralta.

And because apparently, the universe hates her, here he was again, toting a broad man in handcuffs behind him. He entered the 99 with his signature smirk and a glint in his eyes that warned Amy that merciless teasing was coming her way. And her intuition had been right. 

“Santiago!” he yelled across the bullpen, “look, a real criminal! Do you wanna come take a closer look?” His finger pointed annoyingly at the man, who looked almost as fed up with Peralta as Amy.

“Why the hell would I want to do that?” she barked back at him, venom seeping into her voice.  
“I just thought you could use a reminder of what a criminal looks like, ya know, since you haven’t made an arrest in like, a century.” Jake’s eyes were lit up and his smirk had contorted into a full grin.

Blood boiling, she huffed a breath as she stood up from her chair, mouth opening in preparation to snap an insult back at him, maybe about his debt (crippling), or his lack of hygiene (astounding), or his poor eating habits (atrocious), or the stain on his zip-up hoodie that she knew was pizza sauce from this morning (Ugh, pizza for breakfast, really?). Instead, she jumped as she heard the booming voice of her mentor.

“Peralta, Santiago. My office. Now” Holt barked out at the two detectives. 

Amy hurriedly calmed herself, straightened her pantsuit, and holding her head high, followed Peralta into Holt’s office. Jake slumped into one of the two chairs facing the captain, while Amy sat primly in the other, leaning to her left to gain as much distance between her and Peralta as possible. Jake was the first to break the silence.

“So, Cap-y-ton” Jake said enunciating every syllable, making both Holt and Amy grimace disapprovingly, “What’s a-happenin’? ”. He punctuated his question with finger-guns, and Amy scoffed. 

The Captain glanced between his two best detectives with a look of intrigue that neither could interpret before finally speaking.

“It has come to my attention that some of our detectives are going through, a bit of a slump,” at this statement, Amy felt her heat creep up her neck in equal parts indignation and embarrassment. “And, a rather important undercover case has just opened up.”

Confusion and excitement alike mused on the detective’s faces, but before Holt could continue, Peralta interrupted.

“And you want me, your best detective, with the most solves, and most undercover experience working the case!” 

His grin was childish and Amy felt herself involuntarily interject, “You are so NOT the best detective!”

He continued, “Of course, I accept this offer. And I appreciate that you brought Santiago in here so that I could rub it in her face in privacy, really very sweet of you…”

But before their bickering could continue, Holt’s words sliced through the thick tension, “Enough! This assignment requires two detectives. And since Peralta is on a hot streak of arrests, I thought that his luck could pull you out of your slump, Santiago.” 

While Jake argued about luck having nothing to do with his success, Amy thought about the proposition. It had been weeks since you had solved a case. She sighed internally, finally letting herself admit that yes, she was in a bit of a tiny, miniscule slump. Desperate to pull herself out of this frustrating cycle, she spoke up,

“I’m in.”

Peralta’s head snapped to his left to stare at Santiago, looking surprised. Not wanting to be outdone, Peralta quickly snapped out “Me too!” while still looking at Amy. Holt’s face seemed surprised (though Amy wasn’t entirely sure; that man is impossible to read). 

“Well, I’m glad to see the enthusiasm, but I haven’t explained the details yet.”

“Doesn’t matter” Jake and Amy retorted in unison, each giving the other and look of distaste before Amy went on. 

“Sir, you’re right. I am in a slump” Jake squealed in happiness to her right, but she continued on. “At this point, I’ll do anything you think will help me get out of it.”

Holt digested her words, before glancing between the two of them again. A small smile alighted his lips, and Amy thought that he looked like he had just heard a secret or maybe an amusing joke. He held out a thick file towards both of them. “Dismissed”.

Amy snatched the file out of his hands and swiftly maneuvered her way back to her desk, with Jake hot on her heels. Sitting down and throwing a dirty look over her shoulder at Peralta, she opened the file and started reading. Trying to get to the core of the undercover op, Amy skimmed through the file. Jake leaned over her shoulder and did the same. Undercover operation…several weeks… blah blah blah…detectives Santiago and Peralta… Kandy’s Strip Club. A chill went down her spine as she read and re-read the words. She felt Peralta tense at her side before letting out a nervous laugh and rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Well, detective Santiago, you should consider yourself a very lucky lady” Jake joked, though there was less amusement in his face than before. 

Amy turned and glowered at him as he finished, “Very few get the pleasure of working so intimately with THE Jake Peralta.” Amy dropped her head back into her hands and let out a groan.

Yep. The universe definitely hates her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, thanks so much for the nice comments on the last chapter! This one is a bit shorter, but more will be coming soon (Title of your sex tape, Santiago!).

After reading the whole file, and forcing Peralta to do the same, Santiago sullenly slinked through the bullpen towards the elevator. Amy hadn’t realized how late it actually was (how was it already 11:30?) until she had entered the elevator. Leaning her weight on the wall, she felt a headache coming on. Amy let out a sigh, closed her eyes, and pinched the bridge of her nose. This whole day had really taken it out of her, and she suddenly felt exhausted. Just as the elevator doors were about to close, a hand shot through the opening causing them to reopen. 

Not in the mood for small talk with anyone right now, Amy kept her eyes closed. That is, until he spoke.

“Santiago…”

His voice startled her for some reason. It sounded strained. She snapped her eyes open to see him standing in the opposite corner of the elevator; as far away from Amy as possible. 

“What do you want, Peralta?” The response sounded harsh, even to her own ears. She winced, and added “I’m not in the mood to be made fun of right now”. 

Jake scratched the back of his neck and looked down, left, right, anywhere except at Amy. “I just wanted to say that you’ll be great in the op .. not that I’m saying you’ll be a good stripper! Or a bad one! Just like, objectively as a detective, you have the skill set to investigate the scene.” Panic washed over Peralta again, “Wait, no! That somehow sounded sexual… I’m just, I wanted to let you know that I have your back in there… I guess is what I was trying to say.”

Even from the other side of the elevator, she could see Jake was standing so rigid that you could see the tension being held in his muscles. Amy could see the flex and release of his biceps partway concealed by his NYPD T-shirt (a T-shirt, really Peralta? So unprofessional). And she noticed the strain of the muscles running up his shoulders and connecting to his neck. Amy realized she had been staring at Jake for too long without saying anything. Not that she was gawking at his muscles! Absolutely not. It was just so obvious to a brilliant detective, like herself, that Peralta was actually nervous.

“Peralta… are you nervous?” Amy asked, astounded that the ever-confident, exceedingly-arrogant, Jake Peralta could actually be nervous about anything. 

“What? No!” Jake nearly shouted back at her.

The two stared at each other for the few remaining seconds of their elevator ride. The doors dinged open, and the two of them both jumped.

“Uhm, well okay. I’ll see you tomorrow then.” Amy waved awkwardly as she rushed out of the elevator and straight to her car. 

Once home, Amy flopped down on her bed, exhausted. She desperately wanted to fall asleep, but her mind refused to grant her the release. What the hell did Peralta have to be nervous for? All he had to do was land a security job at the club and keep an eye out for her. Which was barely even necessary since Amy was more than capable of handling herself. 

Amy was the one who had the right to be nervous, since she was doing all the actual important work. She was the one who was supposed to be gathering information on the club. The NYPD thinks that some of the city’s illegal activity, like drug dealing and prostitution, is centered around this specific club. It was Amy’s job to get hired as, uhm, a “dancer” there. A blush crept into Amy’s cheeks at the thought of being in front of so many people, dressed so provocatively, and then not dressed at all. Amy froze as a realization hit her: Jake. 

Oh dear God, Jake would see her like that! Amy covered her face with her pillow and let out a groan. She had barely even thought of him until now. She was too worried about all the other aspects of the job. 

After hours of thinking of excuses to get out of the operation (family emergency, she got the flu, dental emergency maybe?), Amy resigned herself to the fact that Jake would see her in enticingly sexual lingerie, and probably completely naked. She expected dread to fill her veins like lead, but she felt something else instead. She noticed the sweat accumulating on palms, and her heart was racing. Her stomach was in knots and she felt adrenaline coursing through her. “Nerves”, she mumbled to herself. Just nerves. Never in a million years could she vocalize that there was a tiny part of her (and she really means tiny, infinitesimal actual, like barely even one percent…) that was maybe, possibly excited for Jake to see her this way.

Wait, since when had she started calling him ‘Jake’ instead of Peralta? Ah, fuck.


	3. Chapter 3

Amy squirmed uncomfortably as she stared at herself in the mirror for the umpteenth time in the past hour. Never before had she craved the comfortable modesty of her usual pantsuits as much as she did right now. Willing her feet to move her out of the room, she felt frozen. “This mission is important”, she recited in her head, “the NYPD needs me”. Over and over she repeated this mantra, trying to convince her feet to move out of the dressing room and into the dim-lit club, instead of sprinting the 20 blocks back to her apartment and never leaving again. And the mantra wasn’t false: this mission was crucial for the NYPD. 

Amy knew deep down that this case was important, to the city and to her own career. She couldn’t name a captain who hadn’t been involved in an undercover op like this one. Well, maybe not exactly like this one; Those operations probably involved less hairspray, less 6-inch heels, and definitely less dark red lipstick (the amount Gina had applied to Amy’s lips was crazy, right?). But those tragically embarrassing facts aside, Amy was sure that this mission was essential to her career path. She wanted to be captain someday. Someday soon, actually. And she knew she wouldn’t make it without a successful operation like this under her belt. 

Still, it hadn’t been easy for Amy to immerse herself in her undercover persona. She had prepared for weeks before this mission had started. Despite her best efforts at concealing the mission from her coworkers at the Nine-Nine, they all eventually found out what kind of mission Jake and her were taking on. After the initial, horrible embarrassment, Amy decided to ask some of them for help. The NYPD had set Amy up with an apartment to stay in while she was undercover, and Rosa had given her tips on how to keep her life as secretive as possible (was using police surveillance cameras on her front porch really necessary?).

Gina’s talents had actually been super helpful to Amy, since she knew almost nothing about makeup or dancing. When Amy had asked her for tips, Gina had responded in a more positive way than Amy could’ve imagined.

“Oh my God, yessss Santiago! I would love to remake you.” Gina was already pulling bags of makeup out of her drawers and mumbling something about contouring her eyelids? Was that actually a thing?  
Over the next several weeks, Amy would meet at Gina’s apartment every day after work to practice her makeup, hair, and dance moves. The first few times were utterly, completely humiliating. Amy looked like a toddler’s old, worn out barbie doll: bright colors smeared across her eyelids and lips, blotchy foundation, and hair with WAY too much volume. And that was nothing compared to her dancing. Her dance moves were dismal to begin with, but with the addition of sky-high heels, Amy was the posterchild for graceless. 

“God, Santiago, I think Hitchcock would be better at this than you.” Gina smirked as she watched Amy struggle to regain balance in her heels.

“I grew up with seven brothers, Gina! I don’t know what I’m doing.” Amy felt her anger subside into embarrassment. “What do you want from me?”

Gina had crossed the room and was facing Amy now. “I want your innermost, Santiago-style competitiveness to come out.”

Seeing the obvious confusion on Amy’s face, Gina continued. “You hate to lose, and you’d do anything to be the best at something. I’ve literally watched you eat more hotdogs than Scully just because Jake said you couldn’t.”

“So much vomit…” Amy mumbled under her breath.

“Santiago, this is a challenge for you. Prove to everyone that you can do this. And be the best at it” Gina fell back into her bright pink, sequined couch and leaned back haughtily at the end of her speech.

Ever since that night, something in Amy changed. Gina had been right; Amy hated losing. The thought of going to the club looking like someone had drug her out of the gutter while she “danced” (it wasn’t really dancing yet; just jumping around?) brought a feeling of determination to Amy. She worked harder on her techniques at Gina’s and then went to her own apartment and practice on her own. And she got a lot better. She beamed with joy when a few of her dates complimented her hair or makeup. Even if they were just saying it because it was a date, she was still proud of herself.

A week before the op, Gina, Rosa, and Amy had gone out for drinks after a long day at the precinct. After a few at Shaw’s, Gina had led them to “this really great place! I mean, you guys will kind of stand out because you aren’t as brilliant as I am, but whatever.” This great place, turned out to be a crowded, loud, dark, hot, sweaty, club. Protests from both Rosa and Amy were ignored as Gina ordered them a round. And another. And another. How many rounds had Amy had? She felt the alcohol, warm, throughout her body. Soon the three were out dancing on the floor with the many others. Amy felt herself cut lose as she danced. She hadn’t felt this confident on the dance floor in her entire life. When Rosa commented, “Santiago, when the hell did you get so good at that?”, Amy knew she was ready. 

Amy had gotten the job as a dancer at Kandy’s and had been dancing for three weeks. She had been nervous, especially the first day, but she had done well and settled in nicely. The manager loved her, and she had made a lot of friends already. Tonight, was the real night she was nervous about. Tonight, was her first shift with Jake as security. They had both agreed that it would be less suspicious if they applied a few weeks apart from each other. Amy hadn’t seen or spoken to Jake since she had gotten the job as a dancer here, but when she had heard the manager talking about the new guard, her stomach flipped.

“…Kinda a little guy, but I’m telling ya, you should see him fight. Last week I watched him throw a guy over the bar for grabbing at a girl …”

A knock on the dressing room door startled Amy out of her trance. Quickly tying her silk robe around herself, she responded “yes?”. 

The door cracked open the smallest amount possible and she heard him hoarsely croak out “Um… hey. It’s me”.

To her dismay and embarrassment, Amy’s face burned red at the sound of his voice. 

“Hey Jake! Nice to hear you again!” she cringed at how falsely enthusiastic her voice sounded. 

“Uh yeah, you too” he responded, obviously confused at her tone. “Anyway, I heard a rumor about one of the customers. He’s about 30 with dark hair and a beard. Always wears dark jeans and a t-shirt. I guess the guy invites the dancers into the back room to distribute drugs for them to sell”.

Amy stood still waiting. It felt like Jake had more to say about the guy, but he hadn’t continued. “Is that all?”

“Uh ... well no. The rumor is… and this is just rumor you know! But um … the rumor is that in exchange for the drugs, he wants things. Like sexy-time things, you know what I mean?”

She scoffed involuntarily at his immaturity before responding “Yes Jake, I know what you mean”.

“Okay cool. Cool, cool, cool, cool. But I guess that Holt wants you to uh … like lure him in”.

Fuck. Jake was telling her that they wanted her to seduce the suspect in the hopes that he’ll offer her drugs to sell. 

“Okay, got it.” Amy responded shortly. Jake stayed silent. “Anything else?”

“Uh, yeah. Listen Ames…” Jake was cut off by the stage manager yelling for Amy’s fake persona, “Coco! You’re up in five hunny.”

“Fuck Jake, I gotta go. I’ll uh, I’ll see you in a minute okay?”. Amy’s nerves were starting to kick back up as the clock ticked nearer her time.

She slammed the door shut before he could respond, and stripped off her robe. Sliding on the costume for the night, she rolled her eyes. She never should’ve let the other girls pick it out for her, but picking the sexy outfit that Jake (her coworker, for God’s sake) would see her in was a lot of pressure. Once she finished getting dressed, she pulled on her heels and stood to look in the mirror.

Her face was perfectly dusted with foundation, her eyes framed with the smoky eyeshadow that she had practiced with, and her lips her painted a deep red. Her dark hair fell in loose waves down to her midback. 

She wore sky high black heels meant to look similar to boots. Fishnet stockings pulled up to her knees. Black booty shorts with a belt and handcuffs hanging around the belt loop. A skin-tight black shirt with long sleeves and a gold zipper down the front. The “v” shaped neckline was already showing more cleavage than Amy was comfortable with. A shiny gold badge was pinned to her left breast pocket, and her right breast pocket was embroidered with the word “Police”. 

Of-fucking-course this would be the outfit that the girls insisted she wore tonight. Amy Santiago: sexy cop extraordinaire. 

Still smirking from her own joke, Amy placed her tacky cop hat on top of her head, and slide on dark aviator sunglasses. Assuming the confidence of her persona, she sauntered over towards the stage entrance and listened while they announced Coco.

She heard the applause and began pushing her way through the entrance of the curtains, mumbling to herself “here we go, Coco”.


End file.
